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For the leguminous fodder, see alfalfa; for other uses, see Lucerne (disambiguation).
Lucerne
Lucerne - View of Lucerne from the summit of Pilatus
View of Lucerne from the summit of Pilatus
Country Switzerland Coat of Arms of Lucerne
Canton Lucerne
District Lucerne
47°03′N 8°18′E / 47.05°N 8.3°E / 47.05; 8.3Coordinates: 47°03′N 8°18′E / 47.05°N 8.3°E / 47.05; 8.3
Population 76,156 (January 2010)
  - Density 2,622 /km2 (6,792 /sq mi)
Area 29.04 km2 (11.21 sq mi)
Elevation 436 m (1,430 ft)
Postal code 6000
SFOS number 1061
Mayor (list) Urs W. Studer (as of 2008) Ind.
Surrounded by
(view map)
Adligenswil, Ebikon, Emmen, Horw, Kriens, Malters, Meggen, Neuenkirch
Twin towns Bournemouth (United Kingdom), Chicago (United States), Cieszyn (Poland), Guebwiller/Murbach (France), Olomouc (Czech Republic), Potsdam (Germany)
Website luzern.ch
Profile (German), SFSO statistics
Lucerne [zoom] is located in Switzerland
Lucerne [zoom]
Lucerne

Lucerne (French pronunciation: [lysɛʁn]; German: Luzern, IPA: [luːˈtsɛrn]  ( listen); Italian: Lucerna; Romansh: Lucerna) is a city in Switzerland. It is the capital of the Canton of Lucerne and seat of the district with the same name. With a population of 76,156[1], Lucerne is the most populous city in Central Switzerland and a focal point of the region. The city's agglomeration consists of 17 municipalities in three cantons with an overall population of nearly 200,000[2].

Due to its location on the shore of Lake Lucerne (Vierwaldstättersee), within sight of Mount Pilatus and Rigi in the Swiss Alps, Lucerne is traditionally considered first and foremost as a tourist destination. One of the city's famous landmarks is Chapel Bridge (Kapellbrücke), a wooden bridge first built in the 14th century.

Contents

History

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Early history and founding (750–1386)

Chapel Bridge (Kapellbrücke)

After the fall of the Roman Empire beginning in the 6th century, Germanic Alemannic peoples increased their influence on this area of present day Switzerland. Around 750 the Benedictine Monastery of St. Leodegar was founded, which was later acquired by Murbach Abbey in Alsace in the middle of the 9th century, and by this time the area had become known as Luciaria.[3] In 1178 Lucerne acquired its independence from the jurisdiction of Murbach Abbey, and the founding of the city proper probably occurred this same year. The city gained importance as a strategically located gateway for the growing commerce from the Gotthard trade route.

By 1290 Lucerne became a good-sized, self-sufficient city with about 3000 inhabitants. About this time King Rudolph I von Habsburg gained authority over the Monastery of St. Leodegar and its lands, including Lucerne. The populace did not appreciate the increasing Habsburg influence, and Lucerne allied with neighboring towns to seek independence from Habsburg rule. Along with Lucerne, the three other forest cantons of Uri, Schwyz and Unterwalden formed the "eternal" Swiss Confederacy, known as the Eidgenossenschaft, on November 7, 1332. Later the cities Zurich, Zug and Berne joined the alliance. With the help of these additions, the rule of Austria over the area was ended. The issue was settled through Lucerne’s victory over the Habsburgs in the Battle of Sempach in 1386. For Lucerne this victory ignited an era of expansion. The city shortly granted many rights to itself, rights which had been withheld by the Habsburgs until then. By this time the borders of Lucerne approximately matched those of today.

From city to city-state (1386–1520)

In 1415 Lucerne gained Reichsfreiheit from Emperor Sigismund and became a strong member of the Swiss confederacy. The city developed its infrastructure, raised taxes, and appointed its own local officials. The city’s population of 3000 dropped about 40% due to the Black Plague around 1350 and several wars.

In 1419 town records show the first witch trial against a male person.

Swiss-Catholic town (1520–1798)

Lucerne in 1642

Among the growing towns of the confederacy, Lucerne was especially popular in attracting new residents. As the confederacy broke up during Reformation after 1520, most cities became Protestant but Lucerne remained Catholic. After the victory of the Catholics over the Protestants in the Battle at Kappel in 1531, the Catholic towns dominated the confederacy. The future, however, belonged to the Protestant cities like Zurich, Berne and Basel, who defeated the Catholics in the second Villmerg War in 1712. The former prominent position of Lucerne in the confederacy was lost forever. In the 16th and 17th centuries, wars and epidemics became steadily less frequent and as a result the population of the country increased strongly.

Lucerne in 1758

Lucerne was also involved in the Swiss peasant war of 1653.

Century of revolutions (1798–1914)

Conflict at Lucerne, Illustrated London News, 1845.

In 1798, nine years after the beginning of the French Revolution, the French army marched into Switzerland. The old confederacy collapsed and the government became democratic. The industrial revolution hit Lucerne rather late, and by 1860 only 1.7% of the population worked in industry, which was about a quarter of the countrywide rate at that time. Agriculture, which employed about 40% of the workers, was the main form of economic output in the canton. Nevertheless, industry was attracted to the city from areas around Lucerne. From 1850 to 1913, the population quadrupled and the flow of settlers increased. In 1856 trains first linked the city to Olten and Basel, then Zug and Zurich in 1864 and finally to the south in 1897.

Lucerne today

On June 17, 2007, voters of Lucerne and the adjacent municipality of Littau agreed to a merger in a simultaneously held referendum, becoming effective on January 1, 2010.[4] The combined municipality will have a population of around 76,000, making it the seventh largest city in Switzerland, and will keep the name and coat of arms of the city of Lucerne. The successful referendum is expected to pave the way for negotiations with other neighbouring municipalities in an effort to create a unified city-region, based on the results of a study[5].

Sights

A night view of Lucerne across Vierwaldstättersee
Mount Pilatus from Lucerne
The river Reuss in the old part of Lucerne.
Wasserturm and Kapellbrücke - the town's two most famous landmarks

Since the city straddles the Reuss River where it drains the lake, it has a number of bridges. The most famous is the Chapel Bridge (Kapellbrücke), a 204 m (669 ft) long wooden bridge originally built in 1333, although much of it had to be replaced after a fire on August 18, 1993, allegedly caused by a discarded cigarette. Partway across, the bridge runs by the octagonal Water Tower (Wasserturm), a fortification from the 13th century. Inside the bridge are a series of paintings from the 17th century depicting events from Luzern's history. The Bridge with its Tower is the city's most famous landmark.

Downriver, between the Kasernenplatz and the Mühlenplatz, the Spreuerbrücke or Mill Bridge zigzags across the Reuss. Constructed in 1408, it is the oldest covered bridge in Europe and features a series of medieval-style 17th Century plague paintings by Kaspar Meglinger titled Dance of Death. Meglinger's paintings portray various conditions of men and women, priests and warriors, princes and men of learning, the young bride, the devout nun, the lawmaker, the hunter, the miller, even the artist himself, are all depicted at the mercy of Death, with his mocking smile and his ever-changing garb. These paintings, suitable for a Benedictine abbey, are seen by every inhabitant of beautiful Lucerne who crosses the river via the Spreuerbrücke. It has a small chapel in the middle that was added in 1568.

Old Town Lucerne is located just north of the Reuss River, and still has several fine half-timber structures with painted fronts. Remnants of the old town walls exist on the hill above Lucerne, complete with eight tall watch towers. An additional gated tower sits at the base of the hill on the banks of the Reuss River.

The twin needle towers of the Church of St. Leodegar, which was named after the city's patron saint, sit on a small hill just above the lakefront. Originally built in 735, the present structure was erected in 1633 in the late Renaissance style. However, the towers are surviving remnants of an earlier structure. The interior is richly decorated. The church is popularly called the Hofkirche (German) and is known locally as the Hofchile (Swiss-German).

Bertel Thorvaldsen's famous carving of a dying lion (the Lion Monument, or Löwendenkmal) is found in a small park just off Lowenplatz. The carving commemorates the hundreds of Swiss Guards who were massacred in 1792 during the French Revolution, when the mob stormed the Tuileries Palace in Paris.

The Swiss Transport Museum is a large and comprehensive museum exhibiting all forms of transport, including locomotives, automobiles, ships, and aircraft.

The Culture and Convention Center beside the lake in the center of the city was designed by Jean Nouvel. The center has one of the world's leading concert halls, with acoustics by Russell Johnson.

Geography

Another view across Lake Lucerne.

Lucerne has an area of 15.8 square kilometers (6.1 sq mi). Of this area, 11.6% is used for agricultural purposes, while 25.8% is forested. Of the rest of the land, 60.4% is settled (buildings or roads) and the remainder (2.2%) is non-productive (rivers, glaciers or mountains).[6] In the 1997 land survey, 25.9% of the total land area was forested. Of the agricultural land, 10.64% is used for farming or pastures, while 0.95% is used for orchards or vine crops. Of the settled areas, 33.19% is covered with buildings, 1.71% is industrial, 0.89% is classed as special developments, 8.04% is parks or greenbelts and 16.53% is transportation infrastructure. Of the unproductive areas, 0.51% is unproductive standing water (ponds or lakes), 1.01% is unproductive flowing water (rivers) and 0.63% is other unproductive land.[7]

Before the merger, Littau had an area of 13.3 square kilometers (5.1 sq mi). Of this area, 52.3% is used for agricultural purposes, while 21.1% is forested. Of the rest of the land, 24.8% is settled (buildings or roads) and the remainder (1.7%) is non-productive (rivers, glaciers or mountains).[6] In the 1997 land survey, 21.08% of the total land area was forested. Of the agricultural land, 49.17% is used for farming or pastures, while 3.16% is used for orchards or vine crops. Of the settled areas, 10.47% is covered with buildings, 4.29% is industrial, 1.96% is classed as special developments, 2.33% is parks or greenbelts and 5.8% is transportation infrastructure. Of the unproductive areas, 1.66% is unproductive flowing water (rivers) and 0.08% is other unproductive land.[7]

Following the merger in January 2010, the newly expanded city of Lucerne had an area (excluding lakes) of 29.1 square kilometers (11.2 sq mi). Including lakes the total area was 37.4 square kilometers (14.4 sq mi). Of the non-lake area, 47.7% was settled, 28.0% was agricultural, 22.3% was forested and 2.1% was unproductive.[8]

Demographics

Lucerne has a population (as of 2007) of 58,381, of which 19.0% are foreign nationals. Over the last 10 years the population has grown at a rate of 1.2%. Most of the population (as of 2000) speaks German (84.5%), with Italian being second most common ( 2.7%) and Serbo-Croatian being third ( 2.5%).

The age distribution in Lucerne is; 8,454 people or 14.3% of the population is 0–19 years old. 18,772 people or 31.7% are 20–39 years old, and 19,239 people or 32.5% are 40–64 years old. The senior population distribution is 8,463 people or 14.3% are 65–79 years old, 3,570 or 6% are 80–89 years old and 725 people or 1.2% of the population are 90+ years old.[7]

The entire Swiss population is generally well educated. In Lucerne about 73.6% of the population (between age 25-64) have completed either non-mandatory upper secondary education or additional higher education (either University or a Fachhochschule).

As of 2000 there are 30,586 households, of which 15,452 households (or about 50.5%) contain only a single individual. 853 or about 2.8% are large households, with at least five members.[7] As of 2000 there were 5,707 inhabited buildings in the municipality, of which 4,050 were built only as housing, and 1,657 were mixed use buildings. There were 1,152 single family homes, 348 double family homes, and 2,550 multi-family homes in the municipality. Most homes were either two (787) or three (1,468) story structures. There were only 74 single story buildings and 1,721 four or more story buildings.[7]

The historical population is given in the following table:[3]

year population
1445 ca.3,500
1654 ca. 4,000
1700 ca. 4,000
1784 4,235
1798 4,314
1850 10,068
1870 14,400
1888 20,314
1900 29,255
1910 39,339
1930 47,066
1950 60,526
1970 69,879
1990 61,034
2000 59,496
2010 75,000Projected

Politics

In the 2007 election the most popular party was the SPS which received 22.6% of the vote. The next three most popular parties were the FDP (19.3%) and the SVP (18.6%).[6]

Religion

The city grew up around Sankt Leodegar Abbey, founded in 840 AD, and remained strongly Roman Catholic into the 21st Century. In 1850, 96.9% of the population was Catholic, in 1900 it was 81.9% and in 1950 it was still 72.3%. In the 2000 census the religious membership of Lucerne was; 35,682 (60%) were Roman Catholic, and 9,227 (15.5%) were Protestant, with an additional 1,979 (3.33%) that were of some other Christian faith. There are 196 individuals (0.33% of the population) who are Jewish. There are 1,824 individuals (3.07% of the population) who are Muslim. Of the rest; there were 1,073 (1.8%) individuals who belong to another religion, 6,310 (10.61%) who do not belong to any organized religion, 3,205 (5.39%) who did not answer the question.[7]

Culture and Entertainment

Culture

Since plans for the new culture and convention center arose in the late 1980s, Lucerne has found a balance between the so-called established culture and alternative culture. A consensus was reached that culminated in a culture compromise (Kulturkompromiss). The established culture comprises the Culture and Congress Centre (KKL), the city theater (Luzerner Theater) and, in a broader sense, smaller establishments such as Kleintheater, founded by Lucerne native and comedian Emil Steinberger, or Stadtkeller, a music restaurant in the city's old town. KKL houses a concert hall as well as the Museum of Art Lucerne (Kunstmuseum Luzern).

Alternative culture took place mostly in the premises of a former tube factory, which became known as Boa. Other localities for alternative culture have since emerged in the same quarter as Boa. In the beginning, Boa staged various plays, but concerts became more and more common; this new use was disparate with the development of apartment buildings on nearby lots of land. Due to possible noise pollution, Boa was closed and a replacement in a less heavily inhabited area is currently under construction. Critics claimed though, that the new establishment would not meet the requirements for alternative culture.

Events

Jodelling festival 2008

Every year, towards the end of winter, Carnival (Fasnacht) breaks out in the streets, alleyways and squares of the old town. This is a glittering outdoor party, where chaos and merriness reign and nothing is as it normally is. Strange characters in fantastic masks and costumes make their way through the alleyways, while carnival bands (Guggenmusigen) blow their instruments in joyful cacophony and thousands of bizarrely clad people sing and dance away the winter. Lucerne Carnival starts every year on the Thursday before Ash Wednesday with a big bang. There are big parades on Dirty Thursday and the following Monday, called Fat Monday, which attract tens of thousands of people. Lucerne's Carnival ends with a crowning finish on Fat Tuesday evening with a tremendous parade of big bands, lights and lanterns. After the parade, all the bands wander through the city playing joyful music.

The city hosts various renowned festivals throughout the year. The Lucerne Festival for classical music takes place in summer. Its orchestra, the Lucerne Festival Orchestra, is hand-picked from some of the finest instrumentalists in the world. In July, the Blue Balls Festival brings jazz, blues and funk music to the lake promenade and halls of the Culture and Convention Center. The Lucerne Blues Festival is another musical festival which usually takes place in November. Since spring 2004, Lucerne has hosted the Festival Rose d'Or for television entertainment. And in April, the well-established comics festival Fumetto attracts an international audience.

Being the cultural center of a rather rural region, Lucerne regularly holds different folklore festivals, such as Lucerne Cheese Festival, held annually. In 2004, Lucerne was the focus of Swiss Wrestling fans when it had hosted the Swiss Wrestling and Alpine festival (Eidgenössisches Schwing- und Älplerfest), which takes place every three years in a different location. A national music festival (Eidgenössiches Musikfest) attracted marching bands from all parts of Switzerland in 2006. In summer 2008, the jodelling festival (Eidgenössisches Jodlerfest) is expected to have similar impact.

Economy

Lucerne has an unemployment rate of 3%. As of 2005, there were 134 people employed in the primary economic sector and about 21 businesses involved in this sector. 5568 people are employed in the secondary sector and there are 416 businesses in this sector. 47628 people are employed in the tertiary sector, with 3773 businesses in this sector.[6] As of 2000 51.7% of the population of the municipality were employed in some capacity. At the same time, females made up 47.9% of the workforce.[7]

People

Sports

There are several football (soccer) clubs throughout the city. The most successful one is FC Luzern which is playing in Switzerland's premier league (Swiss Super League). The club plays its home matches at Allmend stadium, an outdated 13.000-capacity field in the south of the city. There are plans for a modern football arena combined with an indoor swimming pool and public sports facilities. The complex is not expected to be ready before 2009.

In the past, Lucerne also produced national successes in men's handball and women's volleyball.

Having a long tradition of equestrian sports, Lucerne has co-hosted CSIO Switzerland, an international equestrian show jumping event, until it left entirely for St. Gallen in 2006. Since then, the Lucerne Equestrian Masters took its place. There is also an annual horse racing event, usually taking place in August.

Lucerne annually hosts the final leg of the Rowing World Cup on Rotsee Lake, and has hosted numerous World Rowing Championships, among others the first ever in 1962. Lucerne was also bidding for the 2011 issue but failed.

The city also provides facilities for ice-hockey, figure-skating, golf, swimming, basketball, rugby, skateboarding, climbing and more.

Transport

Main railway station

Lucerne boasts a developed and well-run transport network, with the main operator, VBL, running both buses and trolleybuses in the city. Other operators, such as Auto AG Rothenburg, provide bus services to neighbouring towns and villages. Lucerne station enjoys excellent links to the rest of Switzerland via rail services operated by SBB and Zentralbahn.

International relations

Twin towns — Sister cities

Lucerne is twinned with the following towns:

Weather

Lucerne has an average of 138.1 days of rain per year and on average receives 1,171 mm (46.1 in) of precipitation. The wettest month is June during which time Lucerne receives an average of 153 mm (6 in) of precipitation. During this month there is precipitation for an average of 14.2 days. The driest month of the year is February with an average of 61 mm (2.4 in) of precipitation over 14.2 days.[9]

Climate data for Luzern
Month Jan Feb Mar Apr May Jun Jul Aug Sep Oct Nov Dec Year
Average high °C (°F) 2.6
(37)
4.7
(40)
9
(48)
13.3
(56)
17.9
(64)
21
(70)
23.5
(74)
22.6
(73)
19.4
(67)
13.7
(57)
7.3
(45)
3.5
(38)
13.2
(56)
Daily mean °C (°F) -0.2
(32)
1.3
(34)
4.5
(40)
8.2
(47)
12.5
(55)
15.6
(60)
17.9
(64)
17.1
(63)
14.1
(57)
9.3
(49)
4.1
(39)
0.8
(33)
8.8
(48)
Average low °C (°F) -3.1
(26)
-2
(28)
0.4
(33)
3.7
(39)
7.9
(46)
11.1
(52)
13.3
(56)
13
(55)
10.1
(50)
5.9
(43)
1.1
(34)
-1.9
(29)
5
(41)
Precipitation mm (inches) 64
(2.52)
61
(2.4)
72
(2.83)
93
(3.66)
125
(4.92)
153
(6.02)
141
(5.55)
150
(5.91)
94
(3.7)
71
(2.8)
81
(3.19)
66
(2.6)
1,171
(46.1)
Avg. precipitation days 10.6 10.2 11.9 12.8 14.1 14.2 12.6 13.1 9.1 8.6 10.3 10.6 138.1
Source: MeteoSchweiz [9] 8 May 2009

See also

References

  1. ^ Annual Population Figures, 2009 (PDF) (German, French) Swiss Federal Statistical Office. Retrieved on August 31, 2009.
  2. ^ List of agglomerations and isolated cities in Switzerland, 2000 (Microsoft Excel) (German) Swiss Federal Statistical Office. Retrieved on August 30, 2007.
  3. ^ a b Lucerne in German, French and Italian in the online Historical Dictionary of Switzerland.
  4. ^ (2009) Amtliches Gemeindeverzeichnis der Schweiz, Mutationsmeldungen 2009 / Répertoire officiel des communes de Suisse, Mutations 2009 / Elenco ufficiale dei Comuni della Svizzera, Mutazione 2009 . Federal Statistical Office. Docket 3161. (Report). Retrieved on 6 March 2010.
  5. ^ Grundlagenstudie 'Starke Stadtregion Luzern'PDF (3.50 MiB) January 4, 2007 (German)
  6. ^ a b c d Swiss Federal Statistical Office accessed 20-Aug-2009
  7. ^ a b c d e f g LUSTAT Lucerne Cantonal Statistics (German) accessed 12 August 2009
  8. ^ Statistical Portrait accessed 9 March 2010
  9. ^ a b "Temperature and Precipitation Average Values-Table, 1961-1990" (in German, French, Italian). Federal Office of Meteorology and Climatology - MeteoSwiss. http://www.meteoswiss.admin.ch/web/de/klima/klima_schweiz/tabellen.html. Retrieved 8 May 2009. , the weather station elevation is 454 meters above sea level.

External links


Travel guide

Up to date as of January 14, 2010

From Wikitravel

Lucerne (Luzern in Swiss-German) [1] is a beautiful small city in the heartland of Switzerland, across the lake from Altdorf, where legend has it William Tell shot an apple off of his son's head. In addition to being a fine place to visit in and of itself Lucerne is a great base from which to explore famous Swiss sites such as Mount Rigi and the Rütli Meadow.

Mnt. Pilatus and the covered bridge in Lucerne
Mnt. Pilatus and the covered bridge in Lucerne

Understand

The first city to join the Swiss Confederation, today Lucerne is a lovely small city with a thriving tourism industry, owing mainly to its status as a gateway to Central Switzerland. The city became a center of Swiss history and legend, and is the setting for the most memorable part of the William Tell legend (the bit with the boy and the apple).

Tourism in Lucerne has a distinguished history dating from the mid 19th century, with Mark Twain among them. In "A Tramp Abroad" he recalls the nascent souvenir business, and other budding examples of the tourism trade.

The commerce of Lucerne consists mainly in gimcrackery of the souvenir sort; the shops are packed with Alpine crystals, photographs of scenery, and wooden and ivory carvings. I will not conceal the fact that miniature figures of the Lion of Lucerne are to be had in them. Millions of them. -- Mark Twain

Get in

By train

Thanks to its central location Lucerne can be reached easily from nearly every other city in Switzerland using the Swiss Federal Railway [2]. There are hourly trains from Olten and Zurich Airport and half-hourly trains from Zurich, and a direct train every other hour from Berne, although departure times are more frequent with connections.

The "Zentralbahn" branch of the Swiss Federal Railway provides also hourly trains between Interlaken and Luzern during daytime.

By bus

From Banja Luka, Bosnia and Herzegovina [3]

By boat

Lucerne sits at the north end of the Vierwaldstättersee, one of the busiest waterways in Switzerland, for travel information from Schwyz, Flüelen, Weggis, and outbound points see the schedule at the Schifffahrt Vierwaldstättersee [4].

Get around

Able-bodied travellers will find Lucerne a complete joy to get around in on foot. The Old-Town is tiny, and most other interesting sites are within 20 minutes or so walk, there is also a city bus system [5], as well as assistance for disabled visitors on request from Mobility International Switzerland [6]. The Lido beach and the Swiss Transport Museum are a bit further out and can be reached by bus or by one of several boats per hour from just in front of the central railway station.

Lucerne also makes a very good base for discovering the rest of Central Switzerland, using the Swiss Federal Railway [7], the Schifffahrt Vierwaldstättersee [8], or any one of several private rail or boat companies.

Bicycles are available for rent at the central railway station, at ticket window 21 on the lower level. For 31 CHF per day, you can rent a 24-speed, sturdily-built bike with a baggage clamp. Electric bikes are also available. Bike pick-up and drop-off are around the left side of the train station, at a kiosk across the street from the Swiss Post building. Bike lanes are present on most secondary streets, and Lucerne drivers are generally aware of and polite towards bicyclists.

By bus

Lucerne has an efficient bus network: Verkehrsbetriebe Luzern [9] (German only). It covers the city and the suburbs.

During Fasnacht the paintings on the bridge are covered by paintings promoting the various bands.
During Fasnacht the paintings on the bridge are covered by paintings promoting the various bands.
  • The Chapel Bridge, The Chapel Bridge is in some kind the landmark of Lucerne and its said to be the oldest woodbridge of Europe. The Bridge is made with wood and was built in 14th century as a protection for the city. It's amusing walking over it as you can see about 100 pictures of 12th century city life and Swiss history. Join one of the walking tours going around! Unfortunately the bridge burned down on 18th August 1993. Within a few months it was rebuilt. The tower used as oubliette is still in original condition. Walk over it in a 3D Model: [10]
  • Alpineum [11]
  • Bourbaki Panorama [12]
  • The Glacier Garden [13]
  • The Swiss Transport Museum [14], Lido beach (the first stop for boats leaving from the central train station, preferably reached by bus). With its large collection of trains, planes, automobiles, and motorcycles this museum of means of transport is a great place to spend an afternoon. If you get tired of the real train engines you can check out the model railroad or the miniature working steam train. The air section also features several space travel exhibits, including an un-used project Mercury capsule. Basic admission is 32 Chf. for adults, 21 Chf for children 6-16, and free for younger kids.
  • The old city wall
  • Lucerne Art Museum [15]
  • The Picasso Museum [16] Arriving uninvited at Picasso’s villa “California”, LIFE’s WWII photo correspondent David Douglas Duncan was unsure of his reception. Luckily he, and his camera, were welcomed by Picasso and his family, and over the years produced an intimate portrait of the artist’s day-to-day life. 200 of these photographs, presented alongside a collection of late Picassos donated by Angela and Siegfried Rosengart, are displayed in the Am-Rhyn-Haus, a 17th century building worth seeing in its own right. Picasso’s living room was his studio, and domestic scenes -- a ballet lesson, Picasso drawing with his children, or wrapping himself in the cape and hat of his native Spain -- play out within the backdrop of some of his most famous works. Go twice. One more thing: the missing photos are on the wall above the stairwell. Furrengasse 21, CH-6004. Tel 041 410 17 73. Apr - Oct, open daily 10 to 6. Nov - Mar, 11 to 5.
  • The Rosengart Collection (Sammlung Rosengart) [17], Pilatusstrasse 10, tel: +41 41 220 16 60 (info@rosengart.ch). April-October: every day, 10 AM-6 PM; November-March: every day, 11 AM-5 PM. Well over 200 works by 23 artists of early modernism, including 125 works of Paul Klee and about 50 by Pablo Picasso. Also works by Cézanne, Chagall, Miró, Pissarro, among others. Admission CHF 15 (CHF 8 for students, children 7-16 years).
  • The Richard Wagner Museum [18]
  • The KKL (Kunst- und Kongresshaus Luzern [19], The KKL is a spectacular building that contains several concert halls and the Lucerne Art Museum. It was designed by Jean Nouvel. Its major concert hall ("La salle blanche") is famous for its acoustics, and world class orchestras can be heard regularly. It hosts the lucerne music festival [20]
  • The Lion Monument (German: Löwendenkmal). or the Lion of Lucerne, is a sculpture in Lucerne, Switzerland, designed by Bertel Thorvaldsen. It commemorates the Swiss Guards who were massacred in 1792 during the French Revolution, when revolutionaries stormed the Tuileries Palace in Paris, France. The American writer Mark Twain (1835–1910) praised the sculpture of a mortally-wounded lion as "the most mournful and moving piece of stone in the world."  edit
A marching band parading to exactly where they feel like parading
A marching band parading to exactly where they feel like parading
  • Fasnacht Some cities of Switzerland including Lucerne and Basel celebrate a rousing carnival just before lent each year. The version celebrated here is famous for its chaotic "march any direction you like" street parades of the so called Guugemusig (band of wind instruments and drummer, typical to the carneval of Central Switzerland) and elaborate masks. The carneval week of Lucerne starts on the Fat Tuesday and ends at Ash Wednesday. The programm in short: Fat Tuesday, Urknall (a loud bang) at 5am is the official beginning, music on the streets all the day in the city, mask parade from 2pm along the lake, music on the steets in the evening; Friday to Sunday music and masksparades in all the towns and villages of the region; Güdis Monday, second Urknall at 6am, rest dito Fat Tuesday; Thursday big street concert in the hole old town and surroundings, end of the official carneval at midnight... but it continue in the bars until morning of Ash Wednesday. As with carnival elsewhere the exact date on the calendar is variable according to the phase of the moon. You find the date of the next Fat Tuesday (SchuDo, Schmutziger Donnerstag) here: [21]. If you won't be recognised as a tourist, put on some colorful clothes ;) Most of the people are dressed in colors or in masks. In the last years, the cities of Zurich and Berne started to copy Central Switzerlands carneval. At the moment mood and music isn't half as good as in Lucerne.
  • The Golden Round-Trip [22]
  • Explore the Old Town One of the main reasons that Lucerne attracts so many travelers is its small but remarkably preserved old town. You can get lost (for a few minutes anyhow) in its maze of streets, passages, and squares, admiring the many and varied murals painted on what seems like every other building. A nice short walk on the Museggmauer starts at the Schirmer-Turm, walk up the road near Jazzkantine, open only at daytime.
  • Ascend Mount Pilatus [23] - a famous mountain overlooking the city of Lucerne. Its peak can be reached by the world's steepest cogwheel railway from Alpnachstad (not operating in wintertime) and all-year-round by cable-car in three sections from Kriens (10 minutes by trolley bus no. 1 from Lucerne as far as 'Linde'). This trip is definitely a must and gives you a good impression of a wild and rocky peak with a marvelous view to the "real" Alps. Of course you can walk to the top on foot, which takes at least 4 hours from Kriens. A pleasant alternative is to walk down to Kriens from the bottom of the middle cable-car section. In addition to hiking, there are several other activities, including a suspension rope park and a 1,350 m long toboggan (both at the second stop of the cable-car from Kriens). Even if you don't plan to hike, allow for at least three hours to spend on Pilatus.
  • Take a boat tour [24] from Lucerne to Alpnachstad or back when you go to Mt Pilatus.
  • Take a guided tour [25]

Buy

The shopping in Luzern has improved somewhat since Mark Twain's visit. You'll find several good department stores with acceptable prices for most items, as well as pricy specialty shops.

  • Bucherer - The flagship store of Switzerland's best known watch and high-end jewelery dealer
  • Luzern's old town is full of shops - especially clothing
  1. Treibhaus Luzern [26], they have fine food. 2 menus each day (menu Chf 13, students Chf 7), snacks, donuts and very fine coffee. There are concerts at night.
  2. Migros or Coop. Migros and Coop are huge supermarket chains with a lot of budget products. There is a small Migros and a bigger Coop at the train station, near the tourist office, perfect to buy something to eat if you arrive or leave Lucerne. There are other Migros around, ask the people. Farther there are Migros and Coop Restaurants self-service restaurants.
  • Mövenpick Restaurant Grendelstr. 19, Tel. +41-41-4105222, Fax +41-41-4104437. International dish, very good service. They even have an English menu.
  • Restaurant Schwan
  • Restaurant Bodu, exquisite French Cuisine.
  • Jazzkantine [27], quite small but comfortable bar. They have a stage in the basement. Sometimes there are jazzists playing (4 to 8 times a month). In the same building is the local jazz school, so it's a kind of student bar.
  • Löwengraben,
  • Mr. Pickwick's Pub
  • Gracie Kelly's Irish Pub
  • Opus
  • Parterre
  • Treibhaus Luzern [28], Small but cool alternative Club. They have cheap food (2 menus each day) too.
  • Schüür
  • Sedel [29], the place where punk rock goes on. In the 80s it was the place the youth rebellion went on. Unfortunately it lost a bit of its idealism, nevertheless it's still the club of mothers don't want to let go their kids. Today there are a lot of concerts from Ska to Britpop to Postrock to Gothic. The building is an old women jail and was converted to music practice rooms for bands in the 80s. There are about 60 bands rocking and practicing their sets. So, if you'll here some noise somewhere in it, just knock at the door an come for a jam session.
  • Rathaus, Simply the best beer you will ever have in your life. Brewed only at this small restaurant/brewery. Get the specialty beer. You will not be disappointed.
  • Bar 58, Nice neighborhood bar on Klosterstrasse.
  • Bar 59, Newly opened by the former owners of Bar 58, larger and has live music venues as well but still has a neighborhood bar feel - on Industriestrasse, hidden in the basement of a warehouse looking building.

Sleep

For its size, there are quite a few places to stay in Lucerne, in all price ranges.

  • Lion Lodge Luzern [30], Zurichstrasse 57, +41 (0) 41 410 01 44, info@lionlodge.ch. The Backpackers in the heart of Lucerne. Next to Lion Monument, Old Town and shoppingcenter. Free kitchen facilities and bed sheets. 3 large verandas.
  • Backpackers Lucerne [31], Alpenquai 42, +41 (0) 41 360 04 20, fax: +41 (0) 41 360 04 42, info@backpackerslucerne.ch. Dormitory: Chf. 28.00 pers/night Double Room: Chf. 34.00 pers/night (Sheets included), no curfew, no lockout, no membership, Phone them as they don't accept e-mail booking. Free kitchen facilities. It's a very nice place, clean, close to the lake and closer to the old town than the youth hostel Lucerne. A lot of clubs (Treibhaus, Schüür, Boa) are just around.
  • Youthhostel Lucerne [32].
  • Private rooms, ask for them at the tourist information +41 (0) 41 227 17 17
  • Hotel des Alpes, Rathausquai 5, +41 (41) 410 58 25 (, fax: +41 (41) 410 74 51), [33]. Facing the lake, and overlooking the chapel bridge, this clean well-run establishment offers excellent views including Mount Pilatus. Some of the rooms have balconies, with very large, but semi-private, balconies on the first floor which might be just the thing if you are with a group. Single room starts at CHF 128 per night including breakfast.  edit
  • Hotel Pickwick, Rathausquai 6, +41 (41) 410 59 27 (, fax: +41 (41) 410 51 08), [34].  edit
  • The Bed + Breakfast, Taubenhausstrasse 34, +41 (41) 310 15 14 (, fax: +41 (41) 310 15 40), [35]. A nice bed & breakfast about a 15 minute walk from the train station or quick ride on bus #1. Single starts at CHF 80. Friendly and helpful staff.  edit
  • NH Luzern, Friedenstrasse, 8, +41.41.4183333 [36]. The NH Luzern is only ten minutes from the Exit A2 Luzern Zentrum or Luzern Süd. After the exit, follow the direction Vehrkehrshaus/Ebikon. The train station is only 10 minutes by foot from the hotel and 5 minutes by bus (bus number 1).
  • Cascada, Bundesplatz 18, CH-6003, (, fax: +41 (0)41 226 80 00). Member of Swiss Quality Hotels International. Located 500m from the train station. Single room from 197CHF, double room from 324CHF (Rates of march 2009).
    www.cascada.ch www.SwissQualityHotels.com
     edit
  • Monopol, Pilatusstrasse 1, CH-6003, (, fax: +41 (0)41 226 43 44). Member of Swiss Quality Hotels International. Located right opposite the railway station. The famous Chapel Bridge is reachable within only 2 minutes by foot. Single room from 230CHF, double room from 270CHF (Rates of low season 2009).
    www.monopolluzern.ch www.SwissQualityHotels.com
     edit
  • Waldstätterhof, Zentralstrasse 4, CH-6003, (, fax: +41 (0)41 227 12 72). Member of Swiss Quality Hotels International. Located 100m from the railway station directly in the city center. Single room from 129CHF, double room from 184CHF (Rates of low season 2009).
    www.hotel-waldstaetterhof.ch www.SwissQualityHotels.com
     edit
  • Grand Hotel National, Haldenstrasse 4, +41 (41) 419 09 09 (, fax: +41 (41) 419 09 10), [37]. César Ritz was hotel manager of the Grand Hotel. A single room starts at CHF 300 per room per night.  edit
  • Hotel Schweizerhof, Schweizerhofquai 3a, +41 (41) 410 04 10 (, fax: +41 (41) 410 29 71), [38].  edit
  • Palace Luzern, Haldenstrasse 10, +41 (41) 416 16 16 (, fax: +41 (41) 416 10 00), [39]. The hotel is a haven of hospitality which combines old world charm with the most modern comforts. The ambience is one of stylish elegance  edit
  • The Hotel, Sempacherstrasse 14, +41 (41) 226 86 86 (, fax: +41 (41) 226 86 90), [40]. Billing itself as a boutique hotel, with interior design by the French architect Jean Nouvele, "The Hotel" is as posh as it gets just about anywhere. The theme is classic French with an Indochinese touch which suggests an easy-beats/spy film soundtrack  edit
  • Art-Deco Hotel Montana [41], Adligenswilerstrasse 22, ++41 41 4190000, fax: ++41 41 4190001. The Hotel Montana is a bit down the price and posh scale from "The Hotel". Some might prefer it though for it's architecture (surprise! art-deco), and the commanding views of the lake, and mountains. Double rooms with a lake view start at 250Chf.

Stay safe

Lucerne is a very safe place, safer even than most of the other cities of Switzerland. That said, it is a heavily touristed destination, and where there are tourists there are pickpockets, con artists, and other sorts of folks up to no good. As with everyplace else keep your passport and other valuables where people can't get to them.

  • Mount Pilatus [42]
  • Mount Rigi [43]
  • Guides Lucerne [44]
  • LucerneGuide [45]
  • Mount Titlis
  • Schwyz
  • Zug
  • Felsenweg at Mount Bürgenstock, not very tall, but you get a beautiful view over the Mittelland and its lakes, best in the morning or evening after rainfall; go there by boat (Lucerne-Kehrsiten) and funiculaire or 1.5h walk, by train and bus (Lucerne-Stansstad-Bürgenstock), by bicycle 1.5h up and 0.5h back ;)
  • Mount Lopper, not touristic, but also beautiful view, also best in the morning or evening, only a very short trip from Lucerne; by train to Stansstad (15min), walk back over the bridge and up to the white chapell, follow this only way, always direction west (direction Pilatus), after 1.5h you'll get to a lookout, follow the way, at the crossing you go down to Hergiswil and by train back to Lucerne (10min)
This is a usable article. It has information for getting in as well as some complete entries for restaurants and hotels. An adventurous person could use this article, but please plunge forward and help it grow!

Source material

Up to date as of January 22, 2010

From Wikisource

Lucerne
by Leo Tolstoy, translated by Nathan Haskell Dole
Information about this edition

FROM THE RECOLLECTIONS OF PRINCE NEKHLIUDOF

July 20, 1857.

Yesterday evening I arrived at Lucerne, and put up at the best inn there, the Schweitzerhof. "Lucerne, the chief city of the canton, situated on the shore of the Vierwaldstatter See," says Murray, "is one of the most romantic places of Switzerland: here cross three important highways, and it is only an hour's distance by steamboat to Mount Righi, from which is obtained one of the most magnificent views in the world."

Whether that be true or no, other guides say the same thing, and consequently at Lucerne there are throngs of travelers of all nationalities, especially the English.

The magnificent five-storied building of the Hotel Schweitzerhof is situated on the quay, at the very edge of the lake, where in olden times there used to be the crooked covered wooden bridge [1] with chapels on the corners and pictures on the roof. Now, thanks to the tremendous inroad of Englishmen, with their necessities, their tastes, and their money, they have torn down the old bridge, and in its place erected a granite quay, straight as a stick. On the quay they have built straight, quadrangular five-storied houses; in front of the houses they have set out two rows of lindens and provided them with supports, and between the lindens is the usual supply of green benches.

This is the promenade; and here back and forth stroll the Englishwomen in their Swiss straw hats, and the Englishmen in simple and comfortable attire, and rejoice in their work. Possibly these quays and houses and lindens and Englishmen would be excellent in their way anywhere else, but here they seem discordant amid this strangely magnificent, and at the same time indescribably harmonious and smiling nature.

As soon as I went up to my room, and opened the window facing the lake, the beauty of the sheet of water, of the mountains, and of the sky, at the first moment literally dazzled and overwhelmed me. I experienced an inward unrest, and the necessity of expressing in some manner the feelings that suddenly filled my soul to overflowing. I felt a desire to embrace, powerfully to embrace, some one, to tickle him, or to pinch him; in short to do to him and to myself something extraordinary.

It was seven o'clock in the evening. The rain had been falling all day, but now it had cleared.

The lake, iridescent as melted sulphur, and dotted with boats, which left behind them vanishing trails, spread out before my windows smooth, motionless as it were, between the variegated green shores. Farther away it was contracted between two monstrous headlands, and, darkling, set itself against and disappeared behind a confused pile of mountains, clouds, and glaciers. In the foreground stretched a panorama of moist, fresh green shores, with reeds, meadows, gardens, and villas. Farther away, the dark green wooded heights, crowned with the ruins of feudal castles; in the background, the rolling, pale lilac-colored vista of mountains, with fantastic peaks built up of crags and pallid snow-capped summits. And everything was bathed in a fresh, transparent azure atmosphere, and kindled by the warm rays of the setting sun, bursting forth through the riven skies.

Not on the lake or on the mountains or in the skies was there a single completed line, a single unmixed color, a single moment of repose; everywhere motion, irregularity, fantasy, endless conglomeration and variety of shades and lines; and above all, a calm, a softness, a unity, and the inevitability of beauty.

And here amid this indeterminate, kaleidoscopic, unfettered loveliness, before my very window, stretched stupidly, compelling the gaze, the white line of the quay, the lindens with their supports, and the green seats,--miserable, tasteless creations of human ingenuity, not subordinated, like the distant villas and ruins, to the general harmony of the beautiful scene, but on the contrary brutally opposed to it...

Constantly, though against my will, my eyes were attracted to that horribly straight line of the quay; and mentally I should have liked to get rid of it, to demolish it like a black spot which should disfigure the nose beneath one's eye.

But the quay with the sauntering Englishmen remained where it was, and I involuntarily tried to find a point of view where it would be out of my sight. I succeeded in finding such a view; and till dinner was ready I took delight, alone by myself in this incomplete and therefore the more enjoyable feeling of oppression that one experiences in the solitary contemplation of natural beauty.

About half-past seven I was called to dinner. Two long tables, accommodating at least a hundred persons, were spread in the great, magnificently decorated dining-room on the first floor. The silent gathering of the guests lasted three minutes,--the rustle of women's gowns, the soft steps, the softly spoken words addressed to the courtly and elegant waiters. And all the places were occupied by ladies and gentlemen dressed elegantly, even richly, and for the most part in perfect taste.

As is apt to be the case in Switzerland, the majority of the guests were English, and this gave the ruling characteristics of the common table: that is, a strict decorum regarded as an obligation, a reserve founded not in pride but in the absence of any necessity for social relationship, and finally a uniform sense of satisfaction felt by each in the comfortable and agreeable gratification of his wants.

On all sides gleamed the whitest laces, the whitest collars, the whitest teeth,--natural and artificial,--the whitest complexions and hands. But the faces, many of which were very handsome, bore the expression merely of individual prosperity, and absolute absence of interest in all that surrounded them unless it bore directly on their own individual selves; and the white hands, glittering with rings or protected by mitts, moved only for the purpose of straightening collars, cutting meat, or filling wine-glasses; no soul-felt emotion was betrayed in these actions.

Occasionally members of some one family would exchange remarks in subdued voices, about the excellence of such and such a dish or wine, or about the beauty of the view from Mount Righi.

Individual tourists, whether men or women, sat beside one another in silence, and did not even seem to see one another. If it happened occasionally that, out of this five-score human beings, two spoke to each other, the topic of their conversation was certain to be the weather, or the ascent of the Righi.

Knives and forks scarcely rattled on the plates, so perfect was the observance of propriety; and no one dared to convey peas and vegetables to the mouth otherwise than on the fork. The waiters, involuntarily subdued by the universal silence, asked in a whisper what wine you would be pleased to order.

Such dinners always depress me: I dislike them, and before they are over I become blue. It always seems to me as if I had done something wrong; just as when I was a boy I was set upon a chair in consequence of some naughtiness and bidden ironically, "Now rest a little while, my dear young fellow." And all the time my young blood was pulsing through my veins, and in the other room I could hear the merry shouts of my brothers.

I used to try to rebel against this feeling of being choked down, which I experienced at such dinners, but in vain. All these dead-and-alive faces have an irresistible influence over me, and I myself become also as one dead. I have no desires, I have no thoughts; I do not even observe.

At first I attempted to enter into conversation with my neighbors; but I got no response beyond the phrases which had probably been repeated in that place a hundred thousand times, a hundred thousand times by the same persons.

And yet these people were by no means all stupid and feelingless; but evidently many of them, though they seemed so dead, led self-centered lives, just as I did, and in many cases far more complicated and interesting ones than my own. Why, then, should they deprive themselves of one of the greatest enjoyments of life,--the enjoyment that comes from the intercourse of man with man?

How different it used to be in our pension at Paris, where twenty of us, belonging to as many different nationalities, professions, and individualities, met together at a common table, and, under the influence of the Gallic sociability, found the keenest zest!

There, immediately, from one end of the table to the other, the conversation, sandwiched with witticisms and puns, though often in a broken speech, became general. There every one, without being solicitous for the proprieties, said whatever came into his head. There we had our own philosopher, our own disputant, our own bel esprit, our own butt,--all common property.

There, immediately after dinner, we would move the table to one side, and, without paying too much attention to rhythm, take to dancing the polka on the dusty carpet, and often keep it up till evening. There, though we were rather flirtatious, and not overwise or dignified, still we were human beings.

And the Spanish countess with romantic proclivities, and the Italian abbate, who insisted on declaiming from the "Divine Comedy" after dinner, and the American doctor who had the entrée into the Tuileries, and the young dramatic author with his long hair, and the pianist who, according to her own account, had composed the best polka in existence, and the unhappy widow who was a beauty, and wore three rings on every finger,--all of us enjoyed this society, which, though somewhat superficial, was human and pleasant. And we each carried away from it hearty recollections of the others, superficial or serious, as the case might be.

But at these English table-d'hote dinners, as I look at all these laces, ribbons, jewels, pomaded locks, and silken gowns, I often think how many living women would be happy, and would make others happy, with these adornments.

Strange to think how many friends and lovers--most fortunate friends and lovers--are, perhaps, sitting side by side without knowing it! And God knows why they never come to this knowledge, and never give each other this happiness, which they might so easily give, and which they so long for.

I began to feel depressed, as usual, after such a dinner; and, without waiting for dessert, I sallied out in the most gloomy frame of mind for a constitutional through the city. My melancholy frame of mind was not relieved, but was rather confirmed, by the narrow, muddy streets without lanterns, the shuttered shops, the encounters with drunken workmen, and with women hastening after water, or in bonnets, glancing around them as they glided down the alleys or along the walls.

It was perfectly dark in the streets when I returned to the hotel without casting a glance about me, or having an idea in my head. I hoped that sleep would put an end to my melancholy. I experienced that horrible spiritual chill, loneliness, and heaviness, which sometimes, without any reason, beset those who are just arrived in any new place.

Looking down at my feet, I walked along the quay to the Schweitzerhof, when suddenly my ear was struck by the strains of a peculiar but thoroughly agreeable and sweet music.

These strains had an immediately enlivening effect on me. It was as if a bright, cheerful light had poured into my soul. I felt contented, gay. My slumbering attention was awakened again to all surrounding objects; and the beauty of the night and the lake, to which, till then, I had been indifferent, suddenly came over me with quickening force like something new.

I involuntarily took in at a glance the dark sky with gray clouds flecking its deep blue, now lighted by the rising moon, the glassy, dark green lake, with its surface reflecting the lighted windows, and far away the snowy mountains; and I heard the croaking of the frogs over on the Froschenburg shore, and the dewy fresh call of the quail.

Directly in front of me, in the spot whence the sounds of music had first come, and which still especially attracted my attention, I saw, amid the semi-darkness on the street, a throng of people standing in a semicircle, and in front of the crowd, at a little distance, a small man in dark clothes.

Behind the throng and the man, there stood out harmouniously against the blue, ragged sky, gray and blue, the black tops of a few Lombardy poplars in some garden, and, rising majestically on high, the two stern spires that stand on the towers of the ancient cathedral.

I drew nearer, and the strains became more distinct. At some distance I could clearly distinguish the full accords of a guitar, sweetly swelling in the evening air, and several voices, which, while taking turns with one another, did not sing any definite theme, but gave suggestions of one in places wherever the melody was most pronounced.

The theme was in somewhat the nature of a mazurka, sweet and graceful. The voices sounded now near at hand, now far distant; now a bass was heard, now a tenor, now a falsetto such as the Tyrolese warblers are wont to sing.

It was not a song, but the graceful, masterly sketch of a song. I could not comprehend what it was, but it was beautiful.

Those voluptuous, soft chords of the guitar, that sweet, gentle melody, that solitary figure of the man in black, amid the fantastic environment of the dark lake, the gleaming moon, and the twin spires of the cathedral rising in majestic silence, and the black tops of the poplars, -- all was strange and perfectly beautiful, or at least seemed so to me.

All the confused, arbitrary impressions of life suddenly became full of meaning and beauty. It seemed to me as if a fresh fragrant flower had sprung up in my soul. In place of the weariness, dullness, and indifference toward everything in the world, which I had been feeling the moment before, I experienced a necessity for love, a fullness of hope, and an unbounded enjoyment of life.

"What does thou desire, what doest thou long for?" an inner voice seemed to say. "Here it is. Thou art surrounded on all sides by beauty and poetry. Breathe it in, in full, deep draughts, as long as thou hast strength. Enjoy it to the full extent of thy capacity 'T is all thine, all blessed!" ....

I drew nearer. The little man was, as it seemed, a traveling Tyrolese. He stood before the windows of the hotel, one leg advanced, his head thrown back; and, as he thrummed on the guitar, he sang his graceful song in all those different voices.

I immediately felt an affection for this man, and a gratefulness for the change which he had brought about in me.

The singer, as far as I was able to judge, was dressed in an old black coat. He had short black hair, and he wore a civilian's hat which was no longer new. There was nothing artistic in his attire, but his clever and youthfully gay motions and pose, together with his diminutive stature, formed a pleasing and at the same time pathetic spectacle.

On the steps, in the windows, and on the balconies of the brilliantly lighted hotel, stood ladies handsomely decorated and attired, gentlemen with polished collars, porters and lackeys in gold-embroidered liveries; in the street, in the semicircle of the crowd, and farther along on the sidewalk, among the lindens, were gathered groups of well-dressed waiters, cooks in white caps and aprons, and young girls wandering about with arms about each others' waists.

All, it seemed, were under the influence of the same feeling as I myself experienced. All stood in silence around the singer, and listened attentively. Silence reigned, except in the pauses of the song, when there came from far away across the waters the regular click of a hammer, and from the Froschenburg shore rang in fascinating, monotone the voices of the frogs, interrupted by the mellow, monotonous call of the quail.

The little man in the darkness, in the midst of the street, poured out his heart like a nighingale, in couplet after couplet, song after song. Though I had come close to him, his singing continued to give me greater and greater gratification.

His voice, which was of great power, was extremely pleasant and tender; the taste and feeling for rhythm which he displayed in the control of it were extraordinary, and proved that he had great natural gifts.

After he sung each couplet, he invariably repeated the theme in variation, and it was evident that all his graceful variations came to him at the instant, spontaneously.

Among the crowd, and above on the Schweitzerhof, and near by on the boulevard, were heard frequent murmurs of approval, though generally the most respectful silence reigned.

The balconies and the windows kept filling more and more with handsomely dressed men and women leaning on their elbows, and picturesquely illuminated by the lights in the house.

Promenaders came to a halt, and in the darkness on the quay stood men and women in little groups. Near me, at some distance from the common crowd, stood an aristocratic cook and lackey, smoking their cigars. The cook was forcibly impressed by the music, and at every high falsetto note enthusiastically nodded his head to the lackey, and nudged him with his elbow with an expression of astonishment which seemed to say, "How he sings! hey?"

The lackey, by whose undissimulated smile I could mark the depth of feeling he experienced, replied to the cook's nudges by shrugging his shoulders, as if to show that it was hard enough for him to be made enthusiastic, and that he had heard much better music.

In one of the pauses of his song, while the minstrel was clearing his throat, I asked the lackey who he was, and if he often came there.

"Twice in the summer he comes here," replied the lackey. "He is from Aargau; he gets his livelihood by begging."

"Tell me, do many like him come round here?" I asked.

"Oh, yes," replied the lackey, not comprehending the full force of what I asked; but immediately after, recollecting himself, he added, "Oh, no. This one is the only one I ever heard here. No one else."

At this moment the little man had finished his first song, was briskly twanging his guitar, and said something in his German patois, which I could not understand, but which brought forth a hearty round of laughter from the surrounding throng.

"What was that he said?" I asked.

"He said his throat is dried up, he would like some wine," replied the lackey, who was standing near me.

"What? is he rather fond of the glass?"

"Yes, all that sort of people are," replied the lackey, smiling and pointing at the minstrel.

The minstrel took off his cap, and swinging his guitar went toward the hotel. Raising his head, he addressed the ladies and gentlemen standing by the windows and on the balconies, saying in a half-Italian, half-German accent, and with the same intonation as jugglers use in speaking to their audiences: --

"Messieurs et mesdames, si vous croyez que je gagne quelque chose, vous vous trompez: je ne suis qu'un pauvre tiaple."

He stood in silence a moment, but as no one gave him anything, he once more took up his guitar, and said: --

"A présent, messieurs et mesdames, je vous chanterai l'air du Righi."

His hotel audience made no response, but stood in expectation of the coming song. Below on the street a laugh went round, probably in part because he had expressed himself so strangely, and in part because no one had given him anything.

I gave him a few centimes, which he deftly changed from one hand to the other, and bestowed them in his vest-pocket; and then, replacing his cap, began once more to sing; it was the graceful, sweet Tyrolese melody which he had called *l'air du Righi.

This song, which formed the last on his programme, was even better than the preceding, and from all sides in the wondering throng were heard sounds of approbation.

He finished. Again he swung his guitar, took off his cap, held it out in front of him, went two or three steps nearer to the windows, and again repeated his stock phrase: "Messieurs et mesdames, si vous croyez que je gagne quelque chose," which he evidently considered to be very shrewd and witty; but in his voice and motions I perceived now a certain irresolution and childish timidity which were especially touching in a person of such diminutive stature.

This elegant public, still picturesquely grouped in the lighted windows and on the balconies, were shining in their rich attire; a few conversed in soberly discreet tones, apparently about the singer who was standing there below them with outstretched hand; others gazed down with attentive curiosity on the little black figure; on one balcony could be heard a young girl's merry, ringing laughter.

In the crowd below the talk and laughter kept growing louder and louder.

The singer for the third time repeated his phrase, but in a still weaker voice, and did not even end the sentence; and again he stretched his hand with his cap, but instantly drew it back. Again, not one of those brilliantly dressed scores of people standing to listen to him threw him a penny.

The crowd laughed heartlessly.

The little singer, so it seemed to me, shrunk more into himself, took his guitar into his other hand, lifted his cap, and said: --

"Messieurs et mesdames, je vous remercie, et je vous souhais une bonne nuit."

Then he put on his hat.

The crowd cackled with laughter and satisfaction. The handsome ladies and gentlemen, clamly exchanging remarks, withdrew gradually from the balconies. On the boulevard the promenading began once more. The street, which had been still during the singing, assumed its wonted liveliness; a few men, however, stood at some distance, and, without approaching the singer, looked at him and laughed.

I heard the little man muttering something between his teeth, as he turned away; and I saw him, apparently growing more and more diminutive, start toward the city with brisk steps. The promenaders, who had been looking at him, followed him at some distance, still making merry at his expense. ....

My mind was in a whirl; I could not comprehend what it all meant; and still standing in the same place, I gazed abstractedly into the darkness after the little man, who was fast disappearing, as he went with ever increasing swiftness with long strides into the city, followed by the merrymaking promenaders.

I was overmastered by a feeling of pain, of bitterness, and, above all, of shame for the little man, for the crowd, for myself, as if it were I who had asked for money and received none; as if it were I who had been turned to ridicule.

Without looking any longer, feeling my heart oppressed, I also hurried with long strides toward the entrance of the Schweitzerhof. I could not explain the feeling that overmastered me; only there was something like a stone, from which I could not free myself, weighing down my soul and oppressing me.

At the stately, well-lighted entrance I met the Swiss, who politely made way for me. An English family was also at the door. A portly, handsome, tall gentleman, with black side-whiskers, in a black hat, and with a plaid on one arm, while in his hand he carried a costly cane, came out slowly, and full of importance. Leaning on his arm was a lady, who wore a raw silk gown and a bonnet with bright ribbons and the most charming laces. With them was a pretty, fresh-looking young lady, in a graceful Swiss hat, with a feather, à la mousquetaire; from under it escaped long, light yellow curls, softly encircling her fair face. In front of them skipped a buxom girl of ten, with round, white knees which showed from under her thin embroideries. "What a lovely night!" the lady was saying in a sweet, happy voice, as I passed them.

"Oh, yes," growled the Englishman, lazily; and it was evident that he found it so enjoyable to be alive in the world, that it was too much trouble even to speak.

And it seemed as if all of them alike found it so comfortable and easy, so light and free, to be alive in the world, their faces and motions expressed such perfect indifference to the lives of every one else, and such absolute confidence, that it was to them that the Swiss made way, and bowed so profoundly, and that when they returned they would find clean, comfortable beds and rooms, and that all this was bound to be, and was their indefeasible right, that I could not help contrasting them with the wandering minstrel, who, weary, perhaps hungry, full of shame, was retreating before the laughing crowd. Tnd then, suddenly, I comprehended what it was that oppressed my heart with such a load of heaviness, and I felt an indescribable anger against these people.

Twice I walked up and down past the Englishman, and each time, without turning out for him, my elbow punched him, which gave me a feeling of indescribable satisfaction; and then, darting down the steps, I hastened through the darkness in the direction taken by the little man on his way to the city.

Overtaking three men, walking together, I asked them where the singer was; they laughed, and pointed straight ahead. There he was, walking alone with brisk steps; no one was with him; all the time, as it seemed to me, he was indulging in bitter monologue.

I caught up with him, and proposed to him to go somewhere with me and drink a bottle of wine. He kept on with his rapid walk, and looked at me indignantly; but when it dawned on him what I meant, he halted.

"Well, I will not refuse, if you are so kind," said he; "here is a little café, we can go in there. It's very ordinary," he added, pointing to a drinking-salon that was still open.

His expression "very ordinary" involuntarily suggested to my mind the idea of not going to a very ordinary café, but to go to the Schweitzerhof, where those who had been listening to him were. Notwithstanding the fact that several times he showed a sort of timid disquietude at the idea of going to the Schweitzerhof, declaring that it was too fashionable for him there, still I insisted on carrying out my purpose; andhe, already pretending the he was not in the least abashed, and gayly swinging his guitar, went back with me across the quay.

A few loiterers who had happened along as I was talking with the minstrel, and had stopped to hear what I had to say, now, after arguing among themselves, followed us to the very entrance of the hotel, evidently expecting from the Tyrolese some further demonstration.

I ordered a bottle of wine of a waiter whom I met in the hall. The waiter smiled and looked at us, and went by without answering. The head waiter, to whom I addressed myself with the same order, listened to me and, measuring the minstrel's modest little figure from head to foot, sternly ordered the waiter to take us to the room at the left.

The room at the left was a bar-room for simple people. In the corner of this room a hunchbacked maid was washing dishes. The whole furniture consisted of bare wooden tables and benches.

The waiter who came to serve us looked at us with a supercilious smile, thrust his hands in his pockets, and exchanged some remarks with the humpbacked dishwasher. He evidently tried to give us to understand that he felt himself immeasurably higher than the minstrel, both in dignity and social position, so that he considered it not only an indignity, but actually ridiculous, that he was called on to serve us.

"Do you wish vin ordinaire?" he asked, with a knowing look, winking toward my companion and switching his napkin from one hand to the other.

"Champagne, and your very best," said I, endeavoring to assume my haughtiest and most imposing appearance.

But neither my champagne, nor my endeavor to look haughty and imposing, had the least effect on the servant; he smiled incredulously, loitered a moment or two gazing at us, took time enough to glance at his gold watch, and with leisurely steps, as if going out for a walk, left the room.

Soon he returned with the wine, bringing two other waiters with him. These two sat down near the dishwasher, and gazed at us with amused attention and a bland smile, just as parents gaze at their children when they are gently playing. Only the humpbacked dishwasher, it seemed to me, did not look at us scornfully but sympathetically.

Though it was trying and awkward to lunch with the minstrel, and to play the entertainer, under thefire of all these waiters' eyes, I tried to do my duty with as little constraint as possible. In the lighted room I could see him better. He was a small but symmetrically built and muscular man, though almost a dwarf in stature; he had bristly black hair, teary big black eyes, bushy eyebrows, and a thoroughly pleasant, attractively shaped mouth. He had little side-whiskers, his hair was short, his attire was very simple and mean. He was not over-clean, was ragged and sunburnt, and in general had the look of a laboring-man. He was far more like a poor tradesman than an artist.

Only in his ever humid and brilliant eyes, and in his firm mouth, was there any sign of originality or genius. By his face it might be conjectured that his age was between twenty-five and forty; in reality, he was thirty- seven.

Here is what he related to me, with good-natured readiness and evident sincerity, of his life. He was a native of Aargau. In early childhood he had lost father and mother; other relatives he had none. He had never owned any property. He had been apprenticed to a carpenter; but twenty- two years previously one of his arms had been attacked by caries, which had prevented him from ever working again.

From childhood he had been fond of singing, and he began to be a singer. Occasionally strangers had given him money. With this he had learned his profession, bought his guitar, and now for eighteen years he had been wandering about through Switzerland and Italy, singing before hotels. His whole luggage consisted of his guitar, and a little purse in which, at the present time, there was only a franc and a half. That would have to suffice for supper and lodgings this night.

Every year now for eighteen years he had made the round of the best and most popular resorts of Switzerland, -- Zurich, Lucerne, Interlaken, Chamounix, etc.; by the way of the St. Bernard he would go down into Italy, and return over the St. Gotthard, or through Savoy. Just at present it was rather hard for him to walk, as he had caught a cold, causing him to suffer from some trouble in his legs, -- he called it Gliederzucht, or rheumatism, -- which grew more severe from year to yyear; and, moreover, his voice and eyes had grown weaker. Nevertheless, he was on his way to Interlaken, Aix- les-Bains, and thence over the little St. Bernard to Italy, which he was very fond of. It was evident that on the whole he was well content with his life.

When I asked him why he returned home, if he had any relatives there, or a house and land, his mouth parted in a gay smile, and he replied, "Oui, le sucre est bon, il est doux pour les enfants!" and he winked at the servants.

I did not catch his meaning, but the group of servants burst out laughing.

"No, I have nothing of the sort, but still I should always want to go back," he explained to me. "I go home because there is always a something that draws one to one's native place."

And once more he repeated with a shrewd, self-satisfied smile, his phrase, "Oui, le sucre est bon," and then laughed good-naturedly.

The servants were very much amused, and laughed heartily; only the hunchbacked dish-washer looked earnestly from her big kindly eyes at the little man, and picked up his cap for him, when, as we talked, he once knocked it off the bench. I have noticed that wandering minstrels, acrobats, even jugglers, delight in calling themselves artists, and several times I hinted to my comrade that he was an artist; but he did not at all accept this designation, but with perfect simplicity looked on his work as a means of existence.

When I asked him if he had not himself written the songs which he sang, he showed great surprise at such a strange question, and replied that the words of whatever he sang were all of old Tyrolese origin.

"But how about that song of the Righi? I think that cannot be very ancient," I suggested.

"Oh, that was composed about fifteen years ago. There was a German in Basle; he was a clever man; it was he who composed it. A splendid song. You see he composed it especially for travelers."

And he began to repeat the words of the Righi song, which he liked so well, translated them into French as he went along.

"If you wish to go to Righi, You will not need shoes to Wegis (For you go that far by steamboat), But from Wegis take a stout staff, Also on your arm a maiden; Drink a glass of wine on starting, Only do not drink too freely, For if you desire to drink here, You must earn the right to, first."


"Oh! a splendid song!" he exclaimed, as he finished. The servants, evidently, also found the song much to their mind, because they came up closer to us.

"Yes, but who was it composed the music?" I asked.

"Oh, no one at all; you know you must have something new when you are going to sing for strangers."

When the ice was brought, and I had given my comrade a glass of champagne, he seemed somewhat ill at ease, and, glancing at the servants, he turned and twisted on the bench.

We touched our glasses to the health of all artists; he drank half a glass, then he seemed to be collecting his ideas, and knit his brows in deep thought.

"It is long since I have tasted such wine, je ne vous dis que ça. In Italy the vino d'Asti is excellent, but this is still better. Ah! Italy; it is splendid to be there!" he added.

"Yes, there they know how to appreciate music and artists," said I, trying to bring him round to the evening's mischance before the Schweitzerhof.

"No," he replied. "There, as far as music is concerned, I cannot give anybody satisfaction. The Italians are themselves musicians, -- none like them in the world; but I know only Tyrolese songs. They are something of a novelty to them, though."

"Well, you find rather more generous gentlemen there, don't you?" I went on to say, anxious to make him share in my resentment against the guests of the Schweitzerhof. "There it would not be possible to find a big hotel frequented by rich people, where, out of a hundred listening to an artist's singing, not one would give him anything."

My question utterly failed of the effect that I expected. It did not enter his head to be indignant with them; on the contrary, he saw in my remark an implied slur on his talent which had failed of its reward, and he hastened to set himself right before me. "It is not every time that you get anything," he remarked; "sometimes one isn't in good voice, or you are tired; now today I have been walking ten hours, and singing almost all the time. That is hard. And these important aristocrats do not always care to listen to Tyrolese songs."

"But still, how can they help giving?" I insisted. He did not comprehend my remark.

"That's nothing," he said; "but here the principal thing is, on est tres serré pour la police that's what's the trouble. Here, according to these republican laws, you are not allowed to sing; but in Italy you can go wherever you please, no one says a word. Here, if they want to let you, they let you; but if they don't want to, then they can throw you into jail."

"What? That's incredible!"

"Yes, it is true. If you have been wanred once, and are found singing again, they may put you in jail. I was kept there three months once," he said, smiling as if that were one of his pleasantest recollections.

"Oh! that is terrible!" I exclaimed. "What was the reason?"

"That was in consequence of one of the new laws of the republic," he went on to explain, growing animated. "They cannot comprehend here that a poor fellow must earn his living somehow. If I were not a cripple, I would work. But what harm do I do to any one in the world by my singing? What does it mean? The rich can live as they wish, but un pauvre tiaple like myself can't live at all. What does it mean by laws of the republic? If that is the way they run, then we don't want a republic. Isn't that so, my dear sir? We don't want a republic, but we want ... we simply want ... we want" ... he hesitated a little, ... "we want natural laws."

I filled up his glass.

"You are not drinking," I said.

He took the glass in his hand, and bowed to me.

"I know what you wish," he said, blinking his eyes at me, and threatening me with his finger. "You wish to make me drunk, so as to see what you can get out of me; but no, you shan't have that gratification."

"Why should I make you drunk?" I inquired. "All I wished was to give you a pleasure."

He seemed really sorry that he had offended me by interpreting my insistence so harshly. He grew confused, stood up, and touched my elbow.

"No, no," said he, looking at me with a beseeching expression in his moist eyes. "I was only joking."

And immediately after he made use of some horribly uncultivated slang expression, intended to signify that I was, nevertheless, a fine young man.

"Je ne vous dis que ça," he said in conclusion.

In this fashion the minstrel and I continued to drink and converse; and the waiters continued to stare at us unceremoniously, and, as it seemed, to ridicule us.

In spite of the interest which our conversation aroused in me, I could not avoid taking notice of their behavior; and I confess I began to grow more and more angry.

One of the waiters arose, came up to the little man, and, looking at the top of his head, began to smile. I was already full of wrath against the inmates of the hotel, and had not yet had a chance to pour it out on any one; and now I confess I was in the highest degree irritated by this audience of waiters.

The Swiss, not removing his hat, came into the room, and sat down near me, leaning his elbows on the table. This last circumstance, which was so insulting to my dignity or my vainglory, completely enraged me, and gave an outlet for all the wrath which the whole evening long had been boiling within me. Why had he so humbly bowed when he had met me before, and now, because I was sitting with the traveling minstrel, did he come and take his place near me so rudely? I was entirely overmastered by that boiling, angry indignation which I enjoy in myself, which I sometimes endeavor to stimulate when it comes over me, because it has an exhilarating effect on me, and gives me, if only for a short time, a certain extraordinary flexibility, energy, and strength in all my physical and moral faculties.

I leaped to my feet.

"Whom are you laughing at?" I screamed at the waiter; and I felt my face turn pale, and my lips involuntarily set together.

"I am not laughing, I only ... " replied the waiter, moving away from me.

"Yes, you are; you are laughing at this gentleman. And what right have you to come, and to take a seat here, when there are guests? Don't you dare to sit down!" The Swiss, muttering something, got up and turned to the door.

"What right have you to make sport of this gentleman, and to sit down by him, when he is a guest, and you are a waiter? Why didn't you laugh at me this evening at dinner, and come and sit down beside me? Because he is meanly dressed, and sings in the streets? Is that the reason? and because I have better clothes? He is poor, but he is a thousand times better than you are; that I am sure of, because he has never insulted any one, but you have insulted him."

"I didn't mean anything," replied my enemy, the waiter. "Did I disturb him by sitting doen?"

The waiter did not understand me, and my German was wasted on him. The rude Swiss was about to take the waiter's part; but I fell upon him so impetuously that the Swiss pretended not to understand me, and waved his hand.

The hunchbacked dish-washer, either because she perceived my wrathful state, and feared a scandal, or possibly because she shared my views, took my part, and, trying to force her way between me and the porter, told him to hold his tongue, saying that I was right, but at the same time urging me to calm myself.

"Der Herr hat Recht; Sie haben Recht," she said over and over again. The minstrel's face presented a most pitiable, terrified expression; and evidently he did not understand why I was angry, and what I wanted; and he urged me to let him go away as soon as possible.

But the eloquence of wrath burned within me more and more. I understood it all, -- the throng that had made merry at his expense, andhis auditors who had not given him anything; and not for all the world would I have held my peace.

I believe that, if the waiters and the Swiss had not been so submissive, I should have taken delight in having a brush with them, or striking the defenseless English girl on the head with a stick. If at that moment I had been at Sevastopol, I should have taken delight in devoting myself to slaughtering and killing in the English trench.

"And why did you take this gentleman and me into this room, and not into the other? What?" I thundered at the swiss, seizing him by the arm so that he could not escape from me. "What right had you to judge by his appearance that this gentleman must be served in this room, and not in that? Have not all guests who pay equal rights in hotels? Not only in a republic, but in all the world! Your scurvy republic! ... Equality, indeed! You would not dare to take an Englishman into this room, not even those Englishmen who have heard this gentleman free of cost; that is, who have stolen from him, each one of them, the few centimes which ought to have been given to him. How did you dare to take us to this room?"

"That room is closed," said the porter.

"No," I cried, "that isn't true; it isn't closed."

"Then you know best."

"I know ... I know that you are lying."

The Swiss turned his back on me.

"Eh! What is to be said?" he muttered.

"What is to be said?" I cried. "Now conduct us instantly into that room!"

In spite of the dish-washer's warning, and the entreaties of the minstrel, who would have preferred to go home, I insisted on seeing the head waiter, and went with my guest into the big dining-room. The head waiter, hearing my angry voice, and seeing my menacing face, avoided a quarrel, and, with contemptuous servility, said that I might go wherever I pleased. I could not prove to the Swiss that he had lied, because he had hastened out of sight before I went into the hall.

The dining-room was, in fact, open and lighted; and at one of the tables sat an Englishman and a lady, eating their supper. Although we were shown to a special table, I took the dirty minstrel to the very one where the Englishman was, and bade the waiter bring to us there the unfinished bottle.

The two guests at first looked with surprised, then with angry, eyes at the little man, who, more dead than alive, was sitting near me. They talked together in a low tone; then the lady pushed back her plate, her silk dress rustled, and both of them left the room. Through the glass doors I saw the Englishman saying something in an angry voice to the waiter, and pointing with his hand in our direction. The waiter put his head through the door, and looked at us. I waited with pleasurable anticipation for some one to come and order us out, for then I could have found a full outlet for all my indignation. But fortunately, thought at the time I felt injured, we were left in peace. The minstrel, who before had fought shy of the wine, now eagerly drank all that was left in the bottle, so that he might make his escape as quickly as possible.

He, however, expressed his gratitude with deep feeling, as it seemed to me, for his entertainment. His teary eyes grew still more humid and brilliant, and he made use of a most strange and complicated phrase of gratitude. But still very pleasant to me was the sentence in which he said that if everygocy treated artists as I had been doing, it would be very good, and ended by wishing me all manner of happiness. We went out into the hall together. There stood the servants, and my enemy the Swiss apparently airing his grievances against me before them. All of them, I thought, looked at me as if I were a man who had lost his wits. I treated the little man exactly like an equal, before all that audience of servants; and then, with all the respect that I was able to express in my behavior, I took off my hat, and pressed his hand with its dry and hardened fingers.

The servants pretended not to pay the slightest attention to me. Only one of them indulged in a sarcastic laugh. As soon as the minstrel had bowed himself out, and disappeared in the darkness, I went up-stairs to my room, intending to sleep off all these impressions and the foolish, childish anger which had come upon me so unexpectedly. But, finding that I was too much excited to sleep, I once more went down into the street with the intention of walking until I should have recovered my equanimity, and, I must confess, with the secret hope that I might accidentally come across the porter or the waiter or the Englishman, and show them all their rudeness, and, most of all, their unfairness. But beyond the Swiss, who when he saw me turned his back, I met no one; and I began to promenade in absolute solitude back and forth along the quay.

"This is an example of the strange fate of poetry," said I to myself, having grown a little calmer. "All love it, all are in search of it; it is the only thing in life that men love and seek, and yet no one recognizes its power, no one prizes this best treasure of the world, and those who give it to men are not rewarded. Ask any one you please, ask all these guests of the schweitzerhof, what is the most precious treasure in the world, and all, or ninety-nine out of a hundred, putting on a sardonic expression, will say that the best thing in the world is money.

"'Maybe, though, this does not please you, or coincide with your elevated ideas,' it will be urged; 'but what is to be done if human life is so constituted that money alone is capable of giving a man happiness? I cannot force my mind not to see the world as it is,' it will be added, 'that is, to see the truth.'

"Pitiable is your intellect, pitiable the happiness which you desire! And you yourselves, unhappy creatures, not knowing what you desire, ... why have you all left your fatherland, your relatives, your money-making trades and occupations, and come to this little Swiss city of Lucerne? Why did you all this evening gather on the balconies, and in respectful silence listen to the little beggar's song? And if he had been willing to sing longer, you would have been silent and listened longer. What! could money, even millions of it, have driven you all from your country, and brought you all together in this little nook of Lucerne? Could money have gathered you all on the balconies to stand for half an hour silent and motionless? No! One thing compels you to do it, and will forever have a stronger influence than all the other impulses of life: the longing for poetry which you know, which you do not realize, but feel, always will feel as long as you have any human sensibilities. The word 'poetry' is a mockery to you; you make use of it as a sort of ridiculous reproach; you regard the love for poetry as something meant for children and silly girls, and you make sport of them for it. For yourselves you must have something more definite.

"But children look upon life in a healthy way; they recognize and love what man ought to love, and what gives happiness. But life has so deceived and perverted you, that you ridicule the only thing that you really love, and you seek for what you hate and for what gives you unhappiness.

"You are so perverted that you did not perceive what obligations you were under to the poor Tyrolese who rendered you a pure delight; but at the same time you feel needlessly obliged to humiliate yourselves before some lord, which gives you neither pleasure nor profit, but rather causes you to sacrifice your comfort and convenience. What absurdity! what incomprehensible lack of reason!

"But it was not this that made the most powerful impression on me this evening. This blindness to all that gives happiness, this unconsciousness of poetic enjoyment, I can almost comprehend, or at least I have become wonted to it, since I have almost everywhere met with it in the course of my life; the harsh, unconscious churlishness of the crowd was no novelty to me; whatever those who argue in favor of popular sentiment may say, the throng is a conglomeration of very possibly good people, but of people who touch each other only on their coarse animal sides, and express only the seakness and harshness of human nature. But how was it that you, children of a free, humane people, you christians, you simply as human beings, repaid with coldness and ridicule the poor beggar who gave you a pure enjoyment? But no, in your country there are asylums for beggars. There are no beggars, there must be none; and there must be no feelings of sympathy, since that would be a confession that beggary existed.

"But he labored, he gave you enjoyment, he besought you to give him something of your superfluity in payment for his labor of which you took advantage. But you looked on him with a cool smile as on one of the curiosities in your lofty brilliant palaces; and though there were a hundred of you, favored with happiness and wealth, not one man or one woman among you gave him a sou. Abashed he went away from you, and the thoughtless throng, laughing, followed and ridiculed not you, but him, because you were cold, harsh, and dishonorable; because you robbed him in receiving the entertainment which he have you; for this you jeered him.

"On the 19th of July, 1857, in Lucerne, before the Schweitzerhof Hotel, in which were lodging very opulent people, a wandering beggar minstrel sang for half an hour his songs, and played his guitar. About a hundred people listened to him. The minstrel thrice asked all to give him something. No one person gave him a thing, and many made sport of him.

"This is not an invention, but an actual fact, as those who desire can find out for themselves by consulting the papers for the list of those who were at the schweitzerhof on the 19th of July.

"This is an event which the historians of our time ought to describe in letters of inextinguishable flame. This even is more significant and more serious, and fraught with far deeper meaning, than the facts that are printed in newspapers and histories. That the English have killed several thousand Chinese because the Chinese would not sell them anything for money while their land is overflowing with ringing coins; that the French have killed several thousand Kabyles because the wheat grows well in Africa, and because constant war is essential for the drill of an army; that the Turkish ambassador in Naples must not be a Jew; and that the Emperor Napoleon walks about in Plombières, and gives his people the express assurance that he rules only in direct accordance with the will of the people, -- all these are words which darken or reveal something long known. But the episode that took place in Lucerne on the 19th of July seems to me something entirely novel and strange, and it is connected not with the everlastingly ugly side of human nature, but with a well-known epoch in the development of society. This fact is not for the history of human activities, but for the history of progress and civilization.

"Why is it that this inhuman fact, impossible in any German, French, or Italian country, is quite possible here where civilization, freedom, and equality are carried to the highest degree of development, where there are gathered together the most civilized travelers from the most civilized nations? Why is it that these people who, in their palaces, their meetings, and their societies, labor warmly for the condition of the celibate Chinese in India, about the spread of Christianity and culture in Africa, about the formation of societies for attaining all perfection, -- why is it that they should not find in their souls the simple, primitive feeling of human sympathy? Has such a feeling entirely disappeared, and has its place been taken by vainglory, ambition, and cupidity, governing these men in their palaces, meetings, and societie4s? Has the spreading of that reasonable, egotistical association of people, which we call civilization, destroyed and rendered nugatory the desire for instinctive and loving association? And is this that boasted equality for which so much innocent blood has been shed, and so many crimes have been perpetrated? Is it possible that nations, like children, can be made happy by the mere sound of the word 'equality'?

"Equality before the law? Does the whole life of a people revolve within the sphere of law? Only the thousandth part of it is subject to the law; the rest lies outside of it, in the sphere of the customs and intuitions of society.

"But in society the lackey is better dressed than the minstrel, and insults him with impunity. I am better dressed than the lackey, and insult him with impunity. The Swiss considers me higher, but the minstrel lower, than himself; when I made the minstrel my companion, he felt that he was on an equality with us both, and behaved rudely. I was impudent to the Swiss, and the Swiss acknowledged that he was inferior to me. The waiter was impudent to the minstrel, and the minstrel accepted the fact that he was inferior to the waiter.

"And is that government free, even though men seriously call it free, where a single citizen can be thrown into prison, because, without harming any one, without interfering with any one, he does the only thing he can to prevent himself from dying of starvation?

"A wretched, pitiable creature is man with his craving for positive solutions, thrown into this everlastingly tossing, limitless ocean of good and evil, of facts, of combinations and contradictions. For centuries men have been struggling and laboring to put the good on one side, the evil on the other. Centuries will pass, and no matter how much the unprejudiced mind may strive to decide where the balance lies between the good and the evil, the scales will refuse to tip the beam, and there will always be equal quantities of the good and the evil on each scale.

"If only man would learn to form judgments, and not indulge in rash and arbitrary thoughts, and not to make reply to questions that are propounded merely to remain forever unanswered! If only he would learn that; every thought is both a lie and a truth! - a lie from the one-sidedness and inability of man to recognize all truth; and true because it expresses one side of mortal endeavor. There are divisions in this everlastingly tumultuous, endless, endlessly confused chaos of the good and the evil. They have drawn imaginary lines over this ocean, and they contend that the ocean is really thus divided.

"But are there not millions of other possible subdivisions from absolutely different standpoints, in other planes? Certainly these novel subdivisions will be made in centuries to come, just as millions of different ones have been made in centuries past.

"Civilization is good, barbarism is evil; freedom, good, slavery, evil. Now this imaginary knowledge annihilates the instinctive, beatific, primitive craving for the good which is in human nature. And who will explain to me what is freedom, what is despotism, what is civilization, what is barbarism?

"Where are the boundaries that separate them? And whose soul possesses so absolute a standard of good and evil as to measure these fleeting, complicated facts? Whose intellect is so great as to comprehend and weigh all the facts in the irretrievable past? And who can find any circumstance in which good and evil do not exist together? And because I know that I see more of one than of the other, is it not because my standpoint is wrong? And who has the ability to separate himself so absolutely from life, even for a moment, as to look upon it independently from above?

"One, only one infallible Guide we have, -- the universal Spirit which penetrates all collectively and as units, which has endowed each of us with the craving for the right; the Spirit which commands the tree to grow toward the sun, which commands the flower in autumn-tide to scatter its seed, and which commands each one of us unconsciously to draw closer together. And this one unerring, inspiring voice rings out louder than the noisy, hasty development of civilization.

"Who is the greater man, and who the greater barbarian, -- that lord, who, seeing the minstrel's well-worn clothes, angrily left the table, who gave him not the millionth part of his possessions in payment of his labor, and now lazily sitting in his brilliant, comfortable room, calmly expresses his opinion about the events that are happening in China, and justifies the massacres that have been done there; or the little minstrel, who, risking imprisonment, with a franc in his pocket, and doint no harm to any one, has been going about for a score of years, up hill and down dale, rejoicing men's hearts with his songs, though they have jeered at him, and almost cast him out of the pale of humanity; and who, in weariness and cold and shame, has gone off to sleep, no one knows where, on his filthy straw?"

At this moment, from the city, through the dead silence of the night, far, far away, I caught the sound of the little man's guitar and his voice.

"No," something involuntarily said to me, "you have no right to commiserate the little man, or to blame the lord for his well-being. Who can weigh the inner happiness which is found in the soul of each of these men? There he stands somewhere in the muddy road, and gazes at the brilliant moonlit sky, and gayly sings amid the smiling, fragrant night; in his soul there is no reproach, no anger, no regret. And who knows what is transpiring now in the hearts of all these men within those opulent, brilliant rooms? Who knows if they all have as much unencumbered, sweet delight in life, and as much satisfaction with the world, as dwells in the soul of that little man?

"Endless are the mercy and wisdom of Him who has permitted and formed all these contradictions. Only to thee, miserable little worm of the dust, audaciously, lawlessly attempting to fathom His laws, His designs, -- only to thee do they seem like contradictions.

"Full of love He looks down from His bright, immeasurable height, and rejoices in the endless harmony in which you all move in endless contradictions. In thy pride thou hast thought thyself able to separate thyself from the laws of the universe. No, thou also, with thy petty, ridiculous anger against the waiters, -- thou also hast disturbed the harmonious craving for the eternal and the infinite." ....

Footnotes

  1. Hofbruck, torn down in 1852
This translation is hosted with different licensing information than from the original text. The translation status applies to this edition.
Original:
PD-icon.svg This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1923.

The author died in 1910, so this work is also in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 99 years or less. This work may also be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.

Translation:
PD-icon.svg This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1923.

The author died in 1935, so this work is also in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 70 years or less. This work may also be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.


1911 encyclopedia

Up to date as of January 14, 2010

From LoveToKnow 1911

There is more than one meaning of Lucerne discussed in the 1911 Encyclopedia. We are planning to let all links go to the correct meaning directly, but for now you will have to search it out from the list below by yourself. If you want to change the link that led you here yourself, it would be appreciated.


Wiktionary

Up to date as of January 15, 2010

Definition from Wiktionary, a free dictionary

See also lucerne

Contents

English

Proper noun

Lucerne

  1. A canton of Switzerland.
  2. A city in Switzerland, the capital of the canton of Lucerne.

Synonyms

  • (canton): the canton of Lucerne

Translations

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Wikipedia


Simple English

File:Luzern - Altstadt
Downtown Luzern, or Lucerne
Lucerne (German: Luzern) is a city in Switzerland. It is the capital of the Canton of Lucerne and seat of the district with the same name. The city has a population of 57,533. Lucerne is the most populous city in Central Switzerland and focal point of the region. The city's metropolitan area consists of 17 municipalities in three cantons. It has an overall population of nearly 200,000 people.

Due to its location on the shore of Lake Lucerne (Vierwaldstättersee) within sight of the mountains Pilatus and Rigi, Lucerne is mainly a tourist destination. One of the city's famous landmarks is Chapel Bridge (Kapellbrücke), a wooden bridge from the 14th century.

Other websites

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